


[Slide to Unlock] 0818

by Cumberbatch Critter (ivelostmyspectacles)



Category: Sleepy Hollow (TV)
Genre: Birthday, Friendship, Gen, Pre-Relationship, Surprise Party
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-25
Updated: 2015-02-25
Packaged: 2018-03-15 04:28:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,360
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3433637
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ivelostmyspectacles/pseuds/Cumberbatch%20Critter
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Surprise!"</p><p>Abbie grinned as she watched Ichabod freeze after she had opened the door; she had only relinquished her house over to Jenny and Irving, but trust Jenny to know how to set up a party. Streamers, balloons, the whole nine yards.</p><p>Ichabod stared at both Jenny and Frank before glancing at Abbie. "What is-"</p><p>"Happy birthday!" Jenny interrupted. "What are you, like two hundred and ninety now?"</p>
            </blockquote>





	[Slide to Unlock] 0818

**Author's Note:**

> We finally got a birthdate for him. It makes me exceedingly happy. I'll write something a lot more fluffy involving these two and his birthday (or her birthday, for that matter), too, if I can manage. (I warned you the finale got my mind working for a lot of fanfic.)
> 
> Set post-S2 finale.
> 
> I do not own _Sleepy Hollow_. Thanks for reading!

"It'll take a few minutes," Abbie said, shifting into park. "You may as well come in, the car's air conditioning is crap."

"Really, Lieutenant, I've dealt with worse-" Ichabod broke off as Abbie turned off the ignition.

She swiped the keys and tucked them in between her fingers. "But I'm not leaving you in _my_ car with the keys in and the ignition running," she teased, pushing the door open. "Not after the last time, come on."

"Miss Jenny was with me during the entire ordeal. I assure you that your vehicle was perfectly safe," Ichabod retorted, peering at her over the top of the car. "I was very careful," he added, dogging her footsteps up the drive. "I even evaded the shopping cart that wheeled in my path."

Abbie knew she shouldn't laugh - it was just going to encourage his bad behaviour, God, he was like a puppy - but she couldn't help it. It was probably mostly Jenny's fault, anyway. Neither of them were particularly good influences, to be honest; luckily Crane more or less already had good manners. At least they couldn't corrupt him on that front.

"You don't even have a permit yet, you shouldn't be taking my car _anywhere_ ," she said, slipping the key into the lock.

"Be that as it may, Lieutenant-"

"Surprise!"

Abbie grinned as she watched Ichabod freeze after she had opened the door; she had only relinquished her house over to Jenny and Irving, but trust Jenny to know how to set up a party. Streamers, balloons, the whole nine yards.

Ichabod stared at both Jenny and Frank before glancing at Abbie. "What is-"

"Happy birthday!" Jenny interrupted, grabbing Ichabod's arm to drag him through the doorway. "What are you now, like two hundred and ninety now?"

"What-"

Abbie smiled, following him in. "Did you think we weren't going to celebrate your birthday, Crane?" She closed the door behind her.

"Well, I didn't-" Crane broke off as Jenny drew him into a hug that made even Abbie raise her eyebrows. Crane and Jenny got on well enough, but they were never particularly ‘hugging’ close. It was nice to see them getting closer; their group as a whole, actually.

"... Thank you, Miss Jenny," Ichabod said quietly.

"For the record, he's two hundred... sixty-six?" Abbie said slowly. "Is that right?" she asked, glancing over at him.

"I prefer not to think of the terms of the many, many years I spent in a state of undeath," Ichabod replied.

"Technically speaking, he's around thirty-four, if we're just counting the time he's been awake and conscious," Abbie said, shucking her coat off.

"I still have no idea how I ended up getting into this party," Frank said, moving forward. "And I had no warning whatsoever, so consider my present to you taking you all out for drinks after the next creature of the week that I'm sure we'll have to deal with."

"Much obliged, Captain," Ichabod said, clasping Frank's hand. "Thank you, although it's really not necessary."

"Come on, Crane, we've got pizza, and cake, Abbie made a cake," Jenny said.

"Don't blame me for it looking like crap. It's so hot out, making buttercream is impossible."

"Wait, I thought we were going to- oh! Buttercream! That's that sweet stuff on the top of the cups of cake!"

"Cupcakes," Abbie said, "and yes."

"You can make buttercream?" Ichabod said. His voice was the tone of utter disbelief; he had a fondness for sweets, but it also seemed that he had yet to watch the baking programmes that aired on any given day.

"Will wonders never cease," Abbie said cheerfully. "Come on."

 

 

The night dragged on later than Abbie had expected, but it was partially due to the fact it was a work night. They hadn't had the chance to get started until late, so it was dark outside by the time that first Frank, and eventually Jenny, headed their separate ways.

"I'll never have such a wonderful cake again," Ichabod was saying, tucked into one of the dining room chairs. He wasn't sitting up as straight as usual, and Abbie had actually managed to talk him into letting her clean up the mess on her own, _mostly_ because of the influence of the wine they had been drinking, she suspected.

"I'm pretty sure you'll have a hundred cakes better than mine, Crane. I'm not a professional."

"It was delicious." Ichabod leaned forward, resting his hands on the table. "I didn't know that you were so talented with baked goods. Or party planning," he seemed to add as an afterthought. "Although I still don't see the necessity for these... papery spools or balloons," he said, prodding at an unwound spool of party streamers.

"It's a celebration, you're meant to have fun, be silly." Abbie crammed the pizza box into her fridge and slammed the door before anything could fall out. She'd handle management tomorrow, when she wasn't so tired. "To celebrate your life."

Ichabod ducked his head in a nod. "When I first arrived, in this century, I thought the idea of such a lavish celebration for birthdays outlandish," he said thoughtfully. "But experiencing what we have... I believe I understand the importance. On some things." His eyes flickered back to the streamers.

Abbie laughed quietly, flopping into the chair next to him. She reached for her glass and the bottle of wine. "I dunno. I hadn't celebrated my birthday for years before you showed up."

Ichabod turned his inquisitive gaze on her. "Why not?"

Abbie shrugged. "Jenny and I weren't on speaking terms, and she was in Tarrytown. Corbin would take me out, but we didn't really celebrate..." she trailed off. It had already been two years since Corbin's death. It all seemed so far away, but the raw edges of the wound had never really healed over.

"We shall have a lavish celebration this year, Miss Mills," Ichabod said softly, drawing her out of her thoughts.

Abbie shook her head slightly, forcing herself back into their conversation. She smiled and sipped at her wine. "Sorry, you already missed it."

Ichabod seemed to digest that for a moment before looking positively shattered. "What? When? How-"

"You were busy," Abbie interrupted. _With Katrina_ , but she doesn't say _that_. Not _today_. (Not ever, after what had happened.) "There's always next year, I'm not fussy."

"Next year," Ichabod replied forcefully, nodding with a little more gusto than was strictly necessary. His enthusiasm was adorable; if anyone else was watching, they would have thought it was _her_ birthday, not _his_.

"To next year, then," Abbie said, holding her glass to him in a mock toast. "And to you," she added, "for... being there. For coming back for me. For... everything," she said pathetically. Emotion was not her strong suit. Come to think of it, she'd never been good at speeches, either.

Ichabod blinked at her like he was uncomprehending of the words, and then dropped his gaze in what Abbie assumed was modesty. "Hardly necessary, Lieutenant."

"It is," Abbie responded, taking another, larger drink. "It's your birthday, after all."

Ichabod huffed, his hair fluttering with the motion. "Let us not wear the tradition into the ground."

"Right." Abbie smiled. "There's gonna be plenty of time to do that in the years to come."

"Indeed," Ichabod said, raising an eyebrow. "Complete with blowing out candles and making wishes."

"Yes." Abbie reached for his glass to top it off. "And pizza and cake and booze and friends, best way to do it."

"Yes." Ichabod gripped the stem of his glass between two fingers loosely. "Well, then. A toast," he said. "A little late, I realize, after Miss Jenny and Captain Irving have already left, but..." he looked back at her, his gaze alight with a quiet solitude and happiness. "To friends of whom skillfully prepare impromptu celebrations as well as skillfully manage to save a lost soul," he said slowly. He met her gaze and smiled warmly, the usual earnest smile that was so _Crane_ that Abbie couldn't help but smile with him.

"... To friends." She clinked her glass against his gently. "Happy birthday, Ichabod."

"Indeed I believe it is, Miss Mills."

 


End file.
